Gypsies
by Mecoda
Summary: The legendary oracle Pythia has been reborn in the form of a witch and Amy Rose is the prime suspect. In a world of magic and intrigue where witches want her to rule, gypsies want to use her to overthrow a nation and maniacal emperors seek to preserve their power no matter the cost, Amy must decide who she will fight for and who she will betray. Rated M for attempted rape and gore.
1. Introduction

**Do you guys know what I've never seen on fanfiction for the Sonic games? I have never seen a steam punk story! For those of you that don't know what steam punk is, the world in 'The Golden Compass' is steam punk. It's like Victorian era England meets sci-fi. If you still don't get it you might want to google it or don't. You don't need to get steam punk to get this story. Anyways, the point is, instead of sitting around and waiting for one to be made I said, 'why not do it myself?' So here it is! I hope you guys like it! Read and review, please!**

* * *

Amy Rose's bare feet pounded on the cobblestone road. The yells of angry robotized guards called to her from further down the road.

_Damn this long dress,_ she thought, as she grabbed it so the front hem was half way up her thigh. It was hardly appropriate for a lady to conduct herself in such a way. Amy knew that. But she'd rather sacrifice her pride than her freedom.

It was the dead of night. No carriages were on the dimly lit, dangerous city roads at this time of night, luckily for the petite pink hedgehog. But there were two worse things she had to worry about. The drunken men on the side walk made cat calls at the sight of her, a lone woman exposing her legs. And, of course, the guards were still chasing her.

The guards' yells were, incoherent to her. Not that she really cared what they were saying. She cared more that they had shown up at her father's inn with a warrant for her arrest. Her legs pumped faster and faster as she heard them getting closer and closer behind her. Suddenly they went silent. There was no more angry guards, just drunken men yelling for booty. Where did they go?

_Don't look back,_ she reminded herself. _It'll slow you down._

And yet, being the easily distracted girl she was, she looked back. There was no one there, she had lost them somehow. She was so engulfed by the sight of her presumed safety that she didn't notice the dark figure ahead of her. She slammed into him with her full force. Amy, was small. The man didn't so much as stumble. But she found herself with her bottom to the floor, squatting in the dirty streets.

"Well, lookie what I got here," the man cackled with his east end London accent. She could tell in a split second the man was unrefined. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close to him. He smelt of alcohol and tobacco on his breath. "What a pretty thing. Yer eyes are real nice, little un'. Would ya do a poor ol' man a favour and 'ave a drink with me?"

Amy nearly gagged at his stench. On top of his breath, he smelled like he had been crawling around in the sewer system.

"Wait a secon'! Yer that filly the guards were lookin' fer!" She looked at him in utter shock with her wide, emerald eyes. How'd this old drunken bastard know? "You gotta thousand pound bounty on yer head, girly. Imagine how much ale I'll get me for a thousand pounds!" The man cackled and dragged her down the street. He sang gaily as he went. Amy tried everything she could to free herself from his dirty grip. But, she supposed, years of being a working class citizen had made him strong. That, by no means, meant she gave up. She fought against his iron like hands. The man wasn't even phased. Amy was exerting all her strength, yet got nothing in return.

Amy looked ahead into the darkness, seeing three robotized guards standing under a nearby lamp post. Their heads turned and she heard their metal bones groan inside of them. She shivered. They had once been men with families. Now they were nothing but hollowed out bodies with clock work parts inside. As she came closer to them she noticed the two things that differentiated these beasts from other people. Their eyes would glow yellow like candles in the night and their heads—Amy shuddered. She didn't even want to think about their heads. In the place of the top right corner of their skull there was a clear glass dome. It displayed the clockwork where their brains should have been.

"I gotcha a present, gov'!" The old man yelled to the guards.

"Please, sir!" Amy begged. He didn't even acknowledge her presence. She was nothing but an object to trade for more liquor. The guards began to speak in their robotic language to one another. Their exchange continued for a while as Amy's heart pounded in fright. Their conversation stopped and their glowing eyes beamed at her for a split second.

One approached and grabbed her roughly by the arm. If she had thought the old man had an iron grip she was disproved. The guards hands coiled around her and tighten like a constrictor with titanium bones. Amy whimpered and ceased her struggles. She knew there was no hope of escaping now. If she were to try she'd probably have her arm ripped off.

"Can I 'ave da dough? Ya promised a thousand pounds to whoever turned 'er in?" Amy averted her eyes, knowing all too well what would happen. One of the guards approached the man and placed one hand on each side of his face before jolting his skull to the side with force enough to break his neck. All Amy heard was the sickening crack of his upper spine. Then came the blood curdling sound of skin, tearing like a fabric, as his the dead man's head was dismembered.

* * *

Amy had not been the only one running that night. In the grasslands, directly outside the Imperial City, a boy ran with the wind at heels, pushing towards his destination. He shoved aside the tall, dry, summer grass so it could not slow him down. He had news for his master, news that could change the world, let alone their miniscule gypsy caravan.

The boy saw the lights of lamps ahead of him through the thicket. The eager messenger pumped his legs faster. Bursts of light came off and he knew that his master had to be awake. There could be no other reason but target practice for the flashes. As he came closer he knew he was correct as _bangs_ echoed through his ears.

He emerged from the tall glass into a clearing where the gypsies had flattened the long blades to make room for their temporary settlement. He ran through crowds of drunk men, working men, women with children on their hips, children running home to their mothers. People grunted and hollered as he pushed passed them. He had no time to regard their anger. They'd thank him later for the news he was about to deliver. At the back of the camp was a hill, rising above the rest of the flatlands. Atop the hill was the most luxurious tent of all the ones set up below. The boy ran through the tent, couple of surprised people jumped as he did, and headed straight out the back to find the owner of the tent firing a pistol at a makeshift target. The boy sighed in relief upon finding that the man was there.

From the tent behind him the startled people he had run in on came out, thoroughly disgruntled.

"Oi! You! What do you think you're-" a red echidna started bellowing before he was cut off by his ivory bat companion.

"Miles?" She inquired. The boy, a twin-tailed yellow fox turned to the female bat and nodded, too winded to speak quite yet. "Sonic sent you out only an hour ago. Do you have news already?"

The red echidna's eyes widened, realizing who the boy was. "Sorry, kiddo. You just scared me. What did you find that made you run out here from a scouting trip so early?"

Miles looked towards the man, still shooting at his target, and watched him in a daze. The way he handled the pistol was just the way Miles had designed it to be. It was extraordinary the way he had learned to use it so perfectly in only a short week.

Regaining his original train of though, Miles realized he still had work to do. He headed off towards the man to tell him the news. As he came closer he recognized the qualities of his master. He was a royal blue hedgehog with wild, unkempt quills. He wore only a loose fitting pair of trousers, a white dress shirt and his ragged riding boots. He stood as tall as a king, probably because he was one in a small way, and took no regard to his surroundings. The only thought on his mind was his target.

"Sir," the fox addressed the blue hedgehog.

"Sonic," his master muttered, not turning away from his activity. "My father was a 'sir.' I'm just Sonic."

"Sonic," Miles tried again. "I have news from the Imperial City about His Highness's household."

"And I care about this because...?" Sonic trailed off, taking another shot at his target.

"Because it's about the Iron Heir," he pressed forward. "There's a witch hunt going on as we speak. They're looking for Pythia, Sonic. They say she's risen again."

"'He who has Pythia shall make the future'" Sonic quoted an old text. He paused for only a second before continuing on. "It's only a myth."

Miles shook his head. "Sir, I think I saw her."

Sonic jolted to a halt. The gun fell from his hand as he turned his jade eyes on his boy for the first time. He saw Pythia? She was real?

"She was tiny and pink. She didn't look like much but she was definitely a witch like all the others they were rounding up."

"Why do you think it was Pythia?" Sonic asked in a hushed, blank tone.

"Because she dropped these." Miles took a deck of cards from the pocket of his trousers. They were hand painted and fairly new. On each card was a painting of a fortune. These were the oracle, Pythia's cards. These were tarot cards.

"Rouge!" Sonic yelled to the bat, still standing on top of the hill. She ran down with her echidna husband in tow.

"What is it?" She asked.

Sonic gave her a smile, the first genuine smile he had shown in a month. "How are your acrobats?"

Rouge shrugged. "They're rusty but good. Why?"

"Because," the gypsy king laughed. "We're going to offer our _services_ for the Imperial wedding."

* * *

"Look at all this fresh meat," the Emperor walked back and forth, examining the line of twenty or so women.

The emperor was a tall man with a ample belly and a red, curly moustache. When he passed Amy she could smell the sickening amount of perfumes he used to cover the pungent smell she knew was underneath. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, fighting the urge to plug her nose for fear she might be whipped by one of the guards tailing their king.

"If I wasn't looking for Pythia I might have them all for myself," some pudgy human politicians trailing the Emperor laughed at his morbid comment.

Amy looked to her feet, fighting back tears. Some of these girls were young enough to be his grand daughters. How could he speak of them this way? Amy tried once more to slide her hands through the cuffs that restrained her but only managed to open one of her scabby wounds. She hissed at the sting and closed her eyes, praying to Chaos that this torture would end soon.

_Let me die,_ she cried in her mind. _If you love me, Lord, you'll let me die._

The emperor reached the end of the line and turned back around. This time he smirked at each of them as he passed by. If they were truly looking for the virgin oracle, Pythia, Amy knew what would come next.

"Strip them," Emperor Robotnik called to his robotized guards.

They did as told. Amy felt the titan hands rip the back of her dress, just as the same happened to the other girls. She heard them scream and watched them struggle as their dresses and corsets were ripped down, leaving them bare and exposed to the human men. Amy stayed still and silent, picturing her happy place. It was useless to try to resist now. She had to save her strength for when she really needed it. Now was not the worst time she would face.

"Bend them," the emperor chortled.

Amy felt a cold, hard hand push her back down. Screams raised from the other women. Amy shut her eyes tightly. She wasn't here. She was at home, laying by the fireplace with a cup of tea as her bother braided her quills. She was in her father's office, listening to him read the fantastical works of ancient poets. She was anywhere, absolutely anywhere but here.

"Check them."

If the girls were screaming before they were shrieking now.

"We'll know which one's could be Pythia when we know which ones are pure."

Oddly enough, out of all the girls, Amy was the one who screamed the loudest.

* * *

**This story is a lot more intense and a lot darker than anything I've written before. It is also a lot harder to write considering this is a new style for me and I don't write in third very much. More than anything else this story is an experiment. Review with your feedback and tell me if you would like me to continue. **


	2. The King is Coming

**Hi guys! So the new chapter for Gypsies is finally out! I know it took a while, but like I said, this is a new style so I'm still trying to get a feel for it. It's hard to write so I don't want to rush it too much. Anyways, I hope you guys like this chapter. Please read and review.**

* * *

Shrill screams that could curdle blood rang through the torture chambers. Amy's voice reverberated the most in the ears of the Emperor. Robotnik tilted his head, watching the bare young hedgehog witch with curiosity. She had been the only one to stay calm and cool during this whole ordeal. Now she was wailing like a baby for mercy.

_Oh, how the proud fall,_ he thought to himself with a chuckle.

Perhaps, he considered, he could take this one as his own after they found Pythia. It would give him great pleasure to beat this mighty spirit into submission. It would give him even greater pleasure to see her begging, as per his instructions, on her knees before him. Emperor Robotnik approached the attractive, petite, pink witch. His eyes went up and down her. She shook and spasmed, desperately trying to stay still against the assault his robotized men were inflicting on her.

That's when his attention was drawn to something else. His soldier behind the witch he had been lusting after stood straight, letting the witch fall to her knees. Amy weeped against the stone floor. She raised her red puffy eyes and stared emptily at the emperor before her. The gaze she gave him was frightening. It was not that of irrational vengeance. It was pained but still logical. He could see her coldly calculating the most intimate, haunting ways she might kill him. Robotnik shuddered before moving past her to the soldier. He turned the clockwork translator in his ear on so he might understand the robotized guard.

"The tester won't penetrate," the mechanical voice said in his ear. "Her skin refuses to break."

Robotnik raised his hand, signalling for all the guards to stop. All the other witches soon joined Amy on the floor. They all looked to her, their ears perked up. Was this a sign? Were they in the presence of the Witch's saviour, the Virgin Oracle, Pythia?

Robotnik knelt beside the girl and gruffly ordered his human courtiers to leave. They were hesitant at first. They lingered and watched her like a caged tiger. She was a spectacular beast to be scrutinized.

"Leave!" Robotnik bellowed.

His verdict was final. The old men tripped over their feet, stumbling out the dungeon's door. After that Robotnik only needed to glance in the guards direction and they took the other girls out. The witches fought against the pushes and pulls of their captors. They struggled to reach out and touch the petite woman, still glaring straight in the eyes of the imperial brute.

"Pythia!" Some yelled.

"Saviour!" Others called as though they were lost sheep looking for their Shepard.

The final clang of the prison doors brought the place to silence. There was only Emperor Robotnik, Amy and a cold lifeless guard.

"Hand me the tester," Robotnik commanded.

Amy kneeled their, unfazed. Robotnik had to admit her bravery was impressive. It would make her harder to play off as a loyal Queen though if she was Pythia.

The guard handed Robotnik the tester and stood at attention, waiting. Amy could feel the tension around her. She wished there was something she could do to keep this filthy man away from her. She was powerless though. What was the use of being the supposed Pythia if she had no power to save herself?

"What is your name?" The Emperor asked.

Echoing silence was the only response.

Muteness, Robotnik could work with that. At least she wasn't fighting back.

Emperor Robotnik smiled and twirled his finger. "Will you turn around, my dear?"

_So you can try to draw my blood?_ Amy thought. _I don't think so._

"It won't work," Amy finally decided to speak.

The smoothness of her voice contrasted her rough, beaten appearance. Nothing but her puffy, bloodshot eyes betrayed the fact that she was in any kind of emotional or physical pain whatsoever.

"How can you be sure?" Robotnik questioned with a false sweetness in his tone.

"Because this has happened before," Amy pushed forward. "It will not work until I am a hundred percent willing to give blood."

"'The blood of the oracle is sacred. It will belong to no man until he has Pythia.'" Robotnik quoted breathily.

Amy stiffened. Was this proof? The knife could not shed her blood. Did this mean she was Pythia? She refused to believe so when she first heard what this witch hunt was for. Now she was not so sure. It would explain the dreams after all. Why else would she dream of another woman's life so vividly unless it was her own past life.

For now Amy just nodded.

"Well isn't that convenient for you?" he laughed. "Take her to the Iron Heir's room," he said, now directing his words to the cyborg servant. "We'll see what we can do about this 'willing' problem."

* * *

"You've heard of the wedding?" Emperor Robotnik asked, raising his bushy brow.

Sonic gave a little chuckle. He bowed jokingly like a court jester to the screen the little alien, Bokkun, was holding. "We are gypsies, milord. We have ears in all corners of Mobius. We always know when there are people in need of entertainment."

The Emperor on the screen snorted. His whiskers twitched. "You have spies, you mean?"

"Pfffft! Spies!" Sonic laughed it off. The truth was, yes, he had spies. They were in every kingdom, every court, every street. Plus he had his sly little fox, Miles "Tails" Prower to survey any terrain or society. "No spies! Informants, Sire! How could we properly do our job as artists without information on our audience?"

Satisfied, Emperor Robotnik gave him a wide spread smile. "What do you intend to do for the court?"

"We have our best ladies here for your pleasures, milord," Sonic said, giving a nod towards Rouge and the scantily clad acrobats surrounding her. "We have heard that you love your ladies."

"Indeed," Robotnik huffed, eyeing the women. "Indeed, I do."

Rouge gritted her teeth. When Sonic had told her to gather her performers for a meeting with the Emperor this morning she never thought it would be to offer them up like common whores. She dared not speak now and interrupt. She would, however, have a few choice words with her blue friend after.

"Well, then, I suppose it would be best to let you in!" The Emperor exclaimed.

The Gypsies could hear the dull roar of the Emperor's many courtiers, cheering throughout the throne room. Sonic's ear twitched as he kept the smile plastered on his face. He was disgusted. He was filled with a need for vengeance and lust for blood. There was no way he'd actually let that filthy man lay a hand on his countrywomen. They were under his protection. Unfortunately he needed bait if he wanted Pythia. These girls were his only resource.

The large mechanic doors of the imperial city groaned as they opened for the performers. Rouge came to stand beside her blue companion. The city was everything they had been told and more. Marble pillars and building that scraped the sky were everywhere. The glory that surpassed even vast empires like Rome was glistening in the eyes of the acrobats they had brought.

Sonic and Rouge saw something very different. Below the skyline and the shimmer of the reputation were beggars living on dirty streets. As they entered Sonic saw more than a couple lone women, scrawny and fading from starvation, holding babies in their arms.

"When the city is sacked," Sonic whispered, "find all the women and children you can and bring them to the caravan."

Rouge gave an almost unnoticeable nod. "Will do."

Sonic looked up to see the smog filled air above them. He frowned. He remembered a time, before those wretched humans came to colonize Mobius, that he could see the clear blue skies in the spring. The only thing besmirching that image would be fluffy white clouds that Rouge, Knuckles and himself would pretend were images. Images of the past. All the good spirits of the earth would live atop these memories and bask in the lightness of them. Now it was nothing but a grey sky. Sonic's mind drifted back to the women and children he had seen. They would have no memory of any of those things. No sky, no moo, only poverty and a sun that was barely seen through the thick, smoky fog.

"Have the machines here turned off too," Sonic added to his previous order. "It'll take while but I want the pollution cleared out."

"Who'll stay behind to keep the city after the sack?"

Sonic bit his lip, contemplating. "Leave Blaze and Silver behind," he decided. "They'll do well by me here."

Rouge gave a stiff nod. She would be upset at the loss of her finest acrobat but it was for the best. Blaze was stern and disciplined, she could control the city. Silver was the perfect person to balance her rule out. Unlike his unforgiving, ruthless blue brother, he was very open in giving warmth and sympathy to whoever he thought needed it. Sonic, on the other hand, was equally as kind but not quite as soft on the outside. You could blame years of blood, gore and battle for that.

Rouge grinned to herself, remembering when Sonic and her were only children. They were growing up in the South Islands, former lands of the gypsies before they became nomads. They had been engaged from a very early age and so were prompted to spend every waking moment together. Sonic had absolutely hated her guts. She would steal his stuffed animals and sometimes even his mother's jewelry so she could play dress up. When the gypsy queen found that her jewels were gone who was blamed? Sonic. Of course a sweet little angel like Rouge wouldn't steal it.

"Look, she even has wings like an angel," Sonic's mother would point out.

"Bat wings," he countered. "Like satan."

That got him the belt pretty fast.

Rouge giggled to herself and Sonic looked over at her, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "Why are you in such a good mood?"

"I just realized what a brave and mighty king you are, my friend," she laughed. "But you still used to play with dolls."

Sonic chuckled and gave her a little shove on the shoulder. "They were action figures."

Rouge thought about all that time he had spent hating her. All that time she had spent being the bane of his existence. Here they were now, as close as a brother and sister. What had happened? The slave boy Knuckles had happened.

At first he was a prisoner of war, given to Sonic as a birthday present. Knuckles father had been a general in the Imperial army, a traitor to his own kind. When the men of the caravan raided his home and took the man they found a small boy, only a year Sonic's senior. He was kept in a cell until he was presented as a sort of pet on Sonics tenth birthday. I quaked and quivered with bruises when he was brought out on a leash. The men passed him around the camp first, cursing at him. Sonic sat with his little brother in his lap on the floor, watching. Silver, only seven years old at the time, cried.

"Stop them, Sonic," stop them.

Sonic, at the tender years of childhood, was already stone cold and tainted by violence.

Rouge remembered watching as tears came up in her eyes. The boy was being passed from man to man until one old coot, known for his violent ways, took his hard cane and resolved to give him a whack. Rouge got up, trying to reach the boy but she was too slow. There was one person who was fast enough though. In fact, he was the fastest thing alive.

Sonic suffered a horrible concussion that day on Knuckles' behalf. Knuckles, Sonic's new slave, was tasked with the job of watching over him. After a week in his tent the two of them came out the best of friends. Knuckles brought Rouge and Sonic closer. Not close enough though. They still had no interest in marriage. When Sonic father died leaving his fifteen-year-old son to rule, Sonics first order of business was to free Knuckles and all other slaves, making the valued members of the caravan. His second order was give Rouge to Knuckles.

His two friends were flustered by his decision. Rouge had secretly admired Knuckles for a long time and, unbeknownst to her, Knuckles had loved her from afar. They were just a little nervous about admitting it.

"Shut up, you two," Sonic silenced them. "You're both to shy to make a move so I'm doing it for you." With a cocky grin and a thumbs up, the blue hedgehog ended with a snarky, "you're welcome."

"We're approaching the palace," Sonic warned Rouge, breaking her from her train of thought. "Make sure everything's ready and then meet me there. I want to scout the city."

Rouge took the order with grace and turned, prompting her acrobats to stop.

"Let's go through the check list, ladies," She said, clapping her hands for attention.

Groans rose from all of them except the fire eater/trapeze artist, Blaze.

"Now, now. This is necessary. Calm down, I swear."

Rouge pinned her ears back, listening to the swoosh as Sonic went running down the streets. What was he up to? She wondered. She quickly swiped the question away. Sonic was a big boy. He could take care of himself.

* * *

The whirring of a waking machine was all that could be heard in the large, dark bedroom. Amy sat on the large, double bed, holding back her tears. She sat still, emanating serenity from her every pore. That didn't change the fact that she was frightened. Since the dungeon Amy had fought the urge to collapse in tears of bitterness and try to cover her completely exposed physique with her hands. Pride and begging would not help her, though. She needed to be strong...or at least pretend to be strong. Amy blinked back yet another drop of water threatening to fall down her cheek. She could feel the Iron Heir's eye watching her, scanning her. No doubt all the feed from him was being sent straight to the Emperor. It was not yet safe to release her emotion.

"What do you want with me?" Amy spoke smoothly. There was no hint of any sort of emotion. She was almost as robotic as the Iron Heir himself.

"I am to wait for commands," A raspy voice answered her from the shadows. "Then I will do what my master wants."

"What does he want?" Amy asked.

She spoke as though she already knew but truly she didn't. He wanted the power of Pythia, that was certain. There were many interpretations of what that meant, however. There's a mention of blood so some thought you needed her actual blood. Others thought you needed her blood as in being in relation to her. Others looked to the most popular phrase of the prophecy. 'He who has Pythia will make the future.' Many thought that one needed to own Pythia like a slave or even in the form of a wife. The only problem was that Pythia could not bleed unless she was willing to spill blood. Pythia could not be taken unless it was her wish. Willingness was the key to Pythia. How then did Robotnik intend to use her?

"Wouldn't you like to know," the Iron Heir chuckled luridly.

Amy turned her head and for the first time stared into the glowing red eyes in the shadows. Was he being snarky? Was he...alive?

"What's your name?" She asked, trying to appeal to the first truly mortal companion she had all day. Amy could feel her resolve weakening. She needed the sustenance that only interaction could bring her. She needed to hear the sound of another person speaking to her.

"Shadow," the Iron Heir answered. "The Ultimate Life Form."

"You think highly of yourself," Amy noticed, raising her eyebrow.

"Do I?" He asked. "I am only repeating what I have heard others say."

He sounded like a lost child, this Iron Heir. Had he ever spoken to another person before, other than his maniac creator, Robotnik?

"Why do they say that?" Amy questioned. "That you're the Ultimate Life Form, I mean."

"Because I am the perfect balance between flesh and robotics. I am alive enough to appear personal but robotized enough to to be cold and take orders."

So this personality was a ruse? Or was it left over from whoever he had been before? Amy shook the confusing train of thought from her head. She asked no more questions, for fear it might only confuse her more.

Silence passed and again it was only the whirring of Shadow's engine filling the luxurious cell.

"Do you have a family?" Shadow asked.

Amy jumped a little at the sudden question. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I have been told to befriend you in hopes that my mission will be made easier."

Amy rolled her eyes. "You're doing a great job."

There was a awkward pause before Shadow sputtered out his next question. "Sarcasm?"

Amy nodded. "Sarcasm."

"Then I am doing bad job?"

This time Amy stayed silent. This was a waste of her time. She needed useable intel, not chit-chat with the 'son' of the Emperor.

"Where are we?" Amy asked.

"Classified," Shadow said sternly.

Amy crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "I thought you needed to befriend me." She said.

"I do," Shadow replied.

"Then befriend me by telling me a secret," Amy insisted. "It's proven to make people closer."

Shadow hesitated. "That is true...but I can not tell you that secret."

"Then tell me a secret, any secret!"

"_Any_ secret?" Shadow wondered aloud.

Amy nodded. "As long as it's relevant to me."

"Alright," Shadow agreed. "Then I will tell you this secret. At precisely noon tomorrow I will take you to a carriage outside and we'll be sent to the royal chapel. There we will be married and when we come back from the reception I am instructed to consummate the marriage."

"But you can't take the Pythia if she's not willing," Amy stuttered, hoping to sound confident.

"Whether or not you are willing is irrelevant," Shadow declared. "I was created for the specific purpose of ravaging the Pythia in mind. You will not escape your fate."

It took a second for this final statement to register. In that moment was the indecisive feeling of anger or grief. Amy chose grief. She broke down and weeped into the covers of the bed, not caring who saw. Shadow stood in the corner, uncaring as ever, letting the girl cry.

"Are we friends now?" He asked.

"No!"

Shadow shook his head. What a waste. He would have preferred to have gone through with this gently. Now he'd have to resort to violence. What a shame.

* * *

**I hope you guys enjoyed reading this update. I worked long and hard on it so be sure to review and leave your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading**


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